If I were a teacher,

I'd teach plagiarism
Like a patent office.
I'd teach publication
Like plagiarism,
And I'll proofread
Any paper that properly
Cites their sources.

I'd teach every
Kid from age X to Y
That if I can't
Lift them as
High as they
Want to go
Than somebody
Else
Can.

I would be the man,
That teaches subjects
Like I'm their King,
And I'd spread
Knowledge to every
Acre of my empire
I'd teach anything.

See,
I'd teach chemistry
By making the reaction of
Why and How
Always synthesize
Wow.

I'd be a catalyst
For positive change
By keeping every
School-yard bully
and kid that's always picked last
Around after class
To teach them physics,

Like if you have mass
And you take up space
Then you ******* matter.

I'd put the cool
in Coulombs.
I'd be so electrostatic
About magnetic fields
You could feel my fluxin'
Energy in the hallway.

I'd say
His story,
And Her story,
And everyone in-between's story,
Is about the day their parents met.

I'd teach ***-ed
Like it's about the
Day their parents met.
And it wouldn't be weird
It'd be beautiful.
Because anybody falling
In love is beautiful.

And speaking of beautiful:

Mathemagics,
Would no longer
Be a bottomless hat
But a bird.
With feathers and wings
And things that always
Find their way home.

I'd transform
The Fourier of
Our foundations
With equations
Of equality
Like you,
And I are
Always equal to
Us.

It'll be cake
To be genius.
....Or pie
Or whatever else is rational
In this situation.

And I
Would measure intelligence
With the answer to the question
Of why we are alive.

I'd standardize
Every test
By removing
Any box that
Takes us
Further apart

I would make art
Combining every
Color from East to West
In a masterpiece
That every child can draw
We'll call it "human"

I would solve
World hunger
And war,
And every other problem
That stems from greed
With answers to the
Questions that I still
Don't know

But I would show
Everyone whose ever
Made you hurt
That a broken heart
Has still got the
Courage to beat

Because it's their words
Where the heart breathes
Where the heart bleeds
Where the heart sleeps

And it's our dreams
That keep us awake
In the wake of our past

So I'd put every love letter
And box of their ****
On a bonfire, light a match,
And we would watch it burn.

Hell,
If I were a teacher
I'd say there's
So much left
That I've still got
To learn.

I'm not an electrician but I do know this.
A voltage produces an electrostatic field. As voltage increases between two distanced points, the field intensifies. You and I were similar in this way. We were two points with voltage charging between us. We somehow created a region stronger than us. Our love flowed like currents. Our love brought us closer. The love between us intensified, much like the way the electrostatic field intensifies. Each kiss and touch made the blood running through my veins turn into electricity. You ignited a fire in me.

The Earth is purged:
Human ghosts
Once hung in elemental pores
Have been released,
Ascendant from dirt
And salt.

Evening vespers complete
After one-thousand years
Of denial,
They take flight into ether,
Each ascension signified
In violent purple hues,
Clean breaks.

Science is intriguing
With such reliable sources
Is it the physics and chemistry?
Or that of an electrostatic force?
Newton's law of motion
Along with kinetic energy
We open our minds and learn
What a pleasant sight to see

In anticipation of the too-few precious hours in tandem, we divulged our carnal cravings at each others’ hands, but omitted fragments, saving them for some other day, finding them too truthful.

When you hold your body to mine, as you have told me you will, I want a flurry of colored breath, peach and magentas and crimsons slipping translucently from every part of me and wafting in and out and between us like a graceful fog, and not just the force of fingers that have waited too long to touch, but the electrostatic brushes of life’s restlessness falling slowly into their own gravity as we learn to trust the moment.

Our lips are full of nerves and that is why a kiss is so much more than symbolic. I placed my lips to the skin of an orange and I was met with the sensuality of the whole terrain of this world. Intimacy then, is the slow press that reassures humanity – the invitation into a world with no walls – the rush of blood that comes from being completely receptive – that is the kiss I want with your soul.

After all the epochs of lovers, these are all the same words, but they are lanterns bouncing across the plains and sparking anew in the way that the naive are always entranced by the lighter in their hand when they first learn how to light a cigarette, elated and dizzy from the *****. Twinkling.

Sometimes all it takes is a breath and I am light and wind and red paper confetti and the moon and a golden orb that turns all it touches into a shining constancy of what’s called love – and I visit your heart knowing that you can’t tell it’s me, and then I must leave– and I know that I was not in my body, but that it must have kept existing while I was gone because I always wake up in tears, and someone had to cry them.

Conventionality dies between us and there are no titles or promises to speak of. I once found security in labels, only to find that they leave no room for the inevitable growth and weathering of time. So I ask little of you – only that you are always true with me, and that you occasionally put your hand in mine.

Zeus was the king of gods,
The god of sky and weather,
Law, order and fate.
A regal man,
                      Mature,
Sturdy figure,
                      Dark beard..
Royal sceptre,
                      Eagle..
O, how can I ever forget his passion for his Lightning Bolt,
No one dare touch?
Then again,
                                                                ­                                              I seek..
the power of lightning.
the cackle of thunder.
the massive electrostatic discharge.
                                                      ­    AWAKENS MY SENSES
For years I have longed..
For your beloved bolt
But when I accepted that it could not be mine
And shall stand faithfully by your side..
M Y W A N D E R I N G S ended..fullstop
Another bolt greeted me...
No intention had I of embracing a new love...
For your bolt has been sown to my heart..
Sealed forever..
Inaccesible...
The keys are lost in my crimson pool of despair..
No one shall ever find it.
You have ruined the recesses of my heart.
                                                          ­                                                       But, let me tell you something.
the key was unearthed.
found by true love.
brought a sparkle in my eyes
a glimmer in my sunshine
a power arose that beat                                                   *the daylight out of..
dark and daunting thoughts.
I beamed that 1000-watt smile once again.
Thank you Mr. Lighting Bolt of Hello Poetry
For when you turn yellow, the electrons in me sizzle..Feel the spark, Zeus?

Her curly hair sings!

And it enchants me, it is --


electrostatic.

step right in
where commodity and fiction
are deliberately blurred,

electrostatic dust collector,
after-shower body air-driers,
a spatially disconnected
from the world roll-on wife
complete with a dining table
that sinks into the floor;
don't tell her she's an android;
just don't.

she is captured
and ever ready,
she was a stenographer
but quite unsteady,
her mouth a spark of vowels
when her far off places
are aroused.

repeat this soothing motto — space, place, memory.

outside is scenographic sensation:
lightology. unbreathed air. porcelain skin.

she's the soft electric assurance
of a better life — the life which rests on device alone — a strong, sweet poison which infects the blood.

she is "the light of any home"...

It stood by my uncle’s hatstand for
As long as I can recall,
This ugly wooden carving, leering
Staring out from the wall,
My mother would say, ‘It’s evil,’
That it wasn’t fit to see,
Not for a young impressionable,
By that, she just meant me.

It used to give me the shivers
Every time that I passed its way,
It had a glare of malevolence
I felt, in a mute dismay,
My uncle brought it from Africa
A memento of his time
Seeking out the Azuli tribe
Who lived in a tropic clime.

‘I think his name was Jabuka,’
My uncle said to a friend,
‘One of those baleful spirits that
Was said to torture men,
He’d pluck your eyes from their sockets
If you saw what you shouldn’t see,
And infected men with a virus
That would **** their family.’

For years it sat in abeyance,
Whatever the power it bore,
There was never a hint of impatience
As it sat, and stared by the door,
It wasn’t until my uncle hired
A sultry African maid,
That evil entered the atmosphere
Of the house where I went, and played.

I think it was then that I noticed
There was something strange at large,
My hair rose up as I walked on by,
An electrostatic charge,
It prickled in all my fingers
Ran up the hairs of my arm,
I’d lie if I should deny that day
I felt a sense of alarm.

While little dark skinned Mbutu,
Would bow when she’d dust it off,
Would mumble some words in Zulu
That I could make nothing of,
I saw the fear in her eyes the day
I glanced off it in the hall,
‘Never to touch Jabuka, son
Or him rage is fearful!’

It must have been close on midnight
I heard, when over and done,
My uncle came on Mbutu
Stark naked before ‘the one’,
It must have been some strange African rite
As she danced, she gave weird cries,
But then next day, my uncle lay
And bled from both of his eyes.

My aunt then died of Ebola,
No more than a week from then,
The virus grew, then Mbutu too
Was lost to the world of men,
I sat by my uncle’s bedside
At the hospital by the park,
When he said, ‘Oh Ben, I’m a fool,’ and then,
‘God, but this room is dark!’

He told me to take Jabuka
And carry it out that day,
‘But while you carry that evil thing
Be sure you’re looking away,
There’s petrol out in the potting shed,
Though barely a gallon or two,
Make sure you douse it over the head,
You know what you have to do.’

I watched the flames as they roared and claimed
The wood of that idol’s gaze,
And felt the surge of an evil urge
Attack, in so many ways,
I knew I’d watched what I shouldn’t see
As I felt it rise in my hair,
And lost one eye as it bled bone dry,
It’s lucky I have a spare!

David Lewis Paget

I want
*** and champagne
Love and all its pain,
Under moonlight
And past the sun's brow
Night and day
Through rain and blue
I want
All that is you,
Lava flows
And fires burn
As does the fiery orb
In the sky,
But nigh;
None are ablaze
Like the yearning within
My soul,
What scorched earth
Would bare rock
Like that of my beating heart
For but a gaze
From your eyes,
For but the graze
Of your skin,
Electrostatic ignition
Between my fingertips
And your luscious curving plains,
Like lighting strikes
And storms thunder
In the space separating,
The void that keeps
This earnest frothing
Churning need alive
Another day...

APAD14 - 006 © okpoet

I think, therefore I may be.

Maybe I think too much to be free

But the walls close faster than a revolving door
Where no man will etch my name in precious floor

Lost to the inevitable human trace
A dream actuated to another time and place

My eternal atomic informative electrostatic attraction
Bounces my life across the pulsars
in altercation
And ionizes my dreams within
this distant universe,
To return to dream and inert

Inani, Intelli, Invinci,

Omni, Alli, Tectoni,

Read the pages on the stone
Sing the whispers in the growth
The dance of time, the hand of space
the love of design, a perfect trace

Sing sing.
as loud as you can
Do not get lost in the yaup of man.

There is a special soul inside of you.
It's the trees, the bees, the seas and due

Time will come for us to know
The world will task our souls for new growth

And when our time should come to pass
I let myself dance in Dodecahedral sky

And let my atoms shine

For new eyes.

Is it Poetry
to find beauty at the bottom
of a notepad
is it just scribbles & scratches.

Is it Poetry
to glimpse those love lines at your mouth-
how they remind me
of your cracked lipstick smudges.

Is it Poetry
to get lost in the library
to catch a wisp or wave- of your
electrostatic love.

But What IS Poetry.
The cascading colours
swinging, singing and dancing from this monitor.
From you.
                                                        Hello. Poetry.

How're you today?

When I’m vibrating at your frequency, the spark that lives behind my belly button jumps between two carbon rods. The electrostatic movement attracts others with similar circuits, but there are so few wired like me. When I do meet a parallel electric force, I can’t help but remove all of my resistors, letting the amperage rise. The resulting voltage causes most to recoil in fear, but occasionally a series connection occurs. The power in that circuit explodes me into you.

Sitting at the turntables,
The sound is the interchangeable,
The volume stirs,
The lyrics become blurry lines,
The channeling of the headphones and speakers,
It’ll be my last dose of the day and night.

The beat is still there,
The 808 rhythms,
My hips begin to move,
My arms begin to raise ,
Alone… I feel my personal rhythm vibrate.
With each and every gaze of the mirror I hate,
I begin to lose myself and encounter the serum of intimacy.

The 808’s come again,
Sucker punching my soul to match the tone,
Ough! My thoughts are deep beneath my bones,
Step by step I feel it coming,
The electrostatic symphony in my soul,
Surging through my breast,
A speaker wave travels through my fingertips.
This language becomes a buzz,
Sweat drips from my hair onto the crystal floor,
I swirl to the turntables and raise the volumes some more,
The 808’s are hitting me harder than then ever before.
I was always told I could kick it to the baseline,
With a body so aroused I feel the momentum making me numb,
Another step and I climaxed at the 808’s mixture,
Another round at the turntables and I hear the 808’s final whispers.

I was becoming obsessed with your rich
coastlines of silky, satisfying love, glorious
visions and inspirations, sparkling moonbeams
magnifying in the midnight mansions of our souls,
such pleasurable kisses and touches synchronizing
together, melting into wild rhymes of flaming
fascinations, vibrating waves escalating
into heightened frequencies, bringing me
into the brightest realms beyond your physical
existence.   You were an endless harmony
strumming on my heart, dividing space
and time, guiding me towards the illumination
of celestial Neptune, effervescent Venus,
jubilant Jupiter, swirling into the rings
of sassy Saturn, wrapped in your rapturous
seabreeze, within your sight and mind,
within your body and soul, your exploding
and rainbow poetry a flowing motion
of romance running deeply in my bloodstream.
I craved the calmness of your wind, your eternal
warmth, how you dazzled me with your
burning bright sparkle, basking in
your slow sensual seas as your handsomeness
echoed in the horizon, dancing delightfully
in my eardrum, speaking to me, humming
to me, how your mesmeric eyes drew me
into your burning flame, into the pure
brightness of your paradise, enmeshed
in your fiery furnace of erupting ecstasy.
I was so lost in your enticing, passionate
planet, my whole world seeping into yours,
becoming more amazed by your powerful
magnetism, your electrostatic majesty,
an authentic quintessence of ultimate
tranquility, breathtakingly savory,
your unblemished arms and hands
so tenderly gratifying, your captivatingly
swelling chests, your hard and amatory abs,
your voluptuous soft thighs, knees, and ankles,
all giving me vividly, heated excitement.

Let science captivate you
Just nourish your mind
Whether if it is physics or chemistry
Be the one who enshrines
The elements of the periodic table
Along with the electrostatic force
Will assist you a great deal
Just stay on course

into a million pieces
sides are splintered
jagged reflections
sharp and brittle
the coldest winter
whittles down the sun
walking on broken glass
the man's hands around the bat
see the wreckage of a woman
crashed
weeping ice stalagmites
trapped
reading her the last rites
over spilled perfume
sweeping the pieces up
with an electrostatic broom
you missed a crystal chip
the cherry candy lips
drips droplets of her blood
in the room you made love

He's a rare kind
With rare kindness
So he'd never
In a moment
Of electrostatic tension
Close the gap
Between our lips.
And truthfully,
It has been so long
And I've learned so much
About consent
And ruined friendships
That I don't remember how.

science fiction versus witchcraft
to the death & rebirth; fighting
off the undead w/ super weapons
built off-world; totems, amulets
& spells against laser guns &
photon bombs; electrostatic fields
versus the devil himself; temporal
distortions warping spacetime,
zombies losing their footing sink
to the earth's molten core where the
Old Ones awaken & rise to the
surface; graviton cannons solidifying
their ectoplasmic bodies into lead
driving them back to the unearthly
hell from which they came &
ushering in a gleaming tomorrow

We were goth kids too,
even before punk---
this was years ago
& look at kids now---
everyone dresses
as if everything
they wear is bought
& paid for at the mall;
where there are no malls
there is electrostatic
Victorian blondes
of the future come from
Gibson girl houses, turning
in vamps & strutting
naked into the ballroom & dancing;
We were goths then
dressed like something
from a Tim Burton---
We didn't know why
ghost cities were haunted
by those who could not
or would not  speak
for themselves:
HP Lovecraft
didn't write the Bible;
PK **** didn't
write graphic novels;
Ann Rice didn't
write great novels---
Kafka wrote great stories
but the Gothic novel
was an English invention
of the Romantics---

muse, slinky shadow
moving across chaos;
last man's last wish;
muse, cat scratching
to be let out; o muse,
wish-fulfillments in
electrostatic; ecstatic
doppelganger sisters

The big-hipped Italian dominated the small Portuguese maiden—
Like a stick with a ball, like dueling shadows in the showcase spotlight—
Like a handful of matches
I’m talking about the inner light where the raindrops fall, Mischa’s got it now—
The left-handed task guided her over the rainbow—
So solemnly we kneel to the squealing goddess, the apple of infinity’s eye
The big-hipped Italian won’t give me a kiss—
That’s not true, we were kissing all night until I pulled her wig off
Now I’m worried about her smooth ***,
Looking like a star filled crystal ball on a Gypsy’s parlor table—
I was wise then, but then how long has it been since Crystal learned the wiser—
Pull her wig off like an old ***
Mischa’s got it now in reruns as I gallop in on an old horse,
All theaters are closed today due to cobwebs
The ******* are running the show now and they’ve all gone on strike—
The missing scene is that of the children, children, sweeping down like hail—
The left-handed task is a miracle to perform,
Just budding in the ***, going to school forever—
She is cremated, her fortune sewn throughout the new grass—
Mischa’s got it now—
The left-handed task is a little rogue spell that casts an eye on the apples green in the field
She is holding my hand and showing me the way to her limo on the yellow brick road—
I saw Kerouac do this,
I can do it too—
I love that fake blonde,
The plastic bottles and express trains like cameras in the eyes of god but who knows it but her lover kissing someone else in the spotlight,
I saw the camera turn and it was you
Facing me to perform a thankless left-handed task,
Your specialty, the trick you do with a handful of kitchen matches—

IV
I’ll start here and work my way to the bottom…
Pretty much what I’d do if I had you here with me…
I’ve been reading a bit about providence and fate and so on
And it seems that the matter is out of our control…
I mean, you say you’re mine forever,
But who knows how long forever will last…
Obviously the stars have not aligned so that our bodies can collide in space,
Only our minds sharing a gravitational pull…
I will keep sending you poetry and of course the novel
But my letters may start to get weird with frustration
Because as much as I relate to you
And feel like I am a part of you and you a part of me
Like some kind of quantum particles sharing the same space
While being in two places at once, I will want you the way a man wants a woman…
I imagine things were different when people wrote letters to pen pals
Or had long-distance relationships…
I mean like, I don’t know, centuries ago…
Then the two people most likely wound up getting married,
But this isn’t the 19th or even the 20th century, is it?
We are living in the future where two people can come across one another
On the Internet and get all into each other just like that…
I’ll probably start channeling my feelings through the detective in the story
Without even realizing it…
I was hoping to develop a poetic language
That only you and I would share but you’ve got me thinking
In more realistic terms
Because I believe a poem should tell the truth and the truth is
I think about you constantly…
I’m not in school and write al the time so I have the luxury,
Unlike you who has to focus on rather complex matters
In regard to your studies
But I’m glad you find the time to correspond with me
No matter where it all goes or if it just disappears into cyberspace
One day like a fantasy
That never even really happened…
I am not hopeful that we will meet one day and at the same time I am…
You talk about your life being confusing…
My life is not, but it’s not simple either…
I will have to keep pretending you are like,
I don’t know, a fantasy figure in my mind
Because that is the only way I won’t **** myself
If I can’t put my arms around you and hold you in good old romantic fashion…
I don’t how that comes across but I’ll just go crazy
If I have to make to this ****** computer…
Why can’t they build a robot like a Star Trek thing
That looks and feels like the actual woman you’ve always wanted to be with…
Our technology is lame because it sets up a relationship
That is just a tease and leaves a man totally lonely
Like he’s living on another planet entirely from the woman he wants so desperately
He can picture her in his mind
And almost hear her voice calling out to him…
“I’m yours forever…forever…forever…” fading into the darkness of electrostatic…
If this is love in the 21st century, I tell you right now, it ***** big time…

III
Muse with your finger in your mouth, licking cappuccino froth
I have never known an emotion could fly—
I have never visited a place as warm as your heart
My feelings torn to pieces and scattered to the wind,
You collect them in your basket and bring them back to me as gifts
I had only known flaming gifts before that—
How so miraculous that we began as faceless words on facebook
And have now become so warm and endeared to one another—
I just wrote some poetry that I spin the way a spider spins its web,
It comes so natural to me—
And your reply was sweet, but not as sweet as you,
But sweeter than your cappuccino
You redefine my reality from the cold gray I mistakenly imagined
Like a prison cell with no walls—
I wondered why I was dreaming of butterflies set free to fly
No longer pinned down in their coffin-like display boxes—
Muse with your finger in your mouth, licking cappuccino froth,
The words I use linger like echoes—
Your words resonate within me; now who is the muse?
You are, eternally—
I want to begin again just like you, like I just turned twenty-one—
I want to start over again like fresh sheets and make them ****** all over again
Like a ****** seeing the dawn as if for the first time after an endless midnight
After a long night in the desert finding fresh water
Deep from within the earth—seeing starlight as if for the first time
After days of darkness with no stars and now this new and never before seen constellation, this original zodiac, the Minotaur and the Muse—
Musing with your finger in your mouth, licking cappuccino froth
Count to twenty-one, that’s how many years I have loved you—
Now keep counting, how many lifetimes is that?
Muse with your finger in your mouth, licking cappuccino froth

II
You make music with your ***, ******* like a waterfall—
******* with the urgency of making an airtight case—
Your *** sends me out to the stars
To look back on a world that seems so small—
When I say the goddess ***** the universe into existence,
You know I mean because you are the source of the metaphor—
Thank you for your music that I hear in the silence
Of my own mind like some wonderful creation
Emerging out of deep dark space, and yes—
That deep dark space is your ******* widening
To loosen a steamy brown **** that falls and splashes
Into the cosmic abyss of Elohim’s toilet—
And your **** bathes my senses like a hidden waterfall
On a tropical island that is only as far as you pulling your knickers down
And squatting over the porcelain alter—
Your *** is my temple, your thoughts and words my scripture—
My poetry is your ****—
Baby, I live up your *** like a child in the womb
Waiting to be born anew every time you squat to **** and ****,
Morning, noon and night and in the middle of the night—
I am the poet, but you are the poem,
I am the writer and my every word hangs on your every ****—

I
Still hungry? I’m stuffed…
I need a smoke and some more coffee—
If you’ll be my skinny cigarette,
I’ll be your creamy cappuccino,
You are the only star in my sky—
I don’t know where you end and I begin,
So let’s smoke each other and meet in the middle—
I’ll lick your foam if you’ll light my match,
If you’ll dance on my pole,
I’ll scratch your back—how’s that for *** for tat?
I’m hungry for your jellyroll, but I’ll give you my éclair,
The kind with extra cream, eat me if you dare—
You’re the girl in my looking glass,
I’m sweet on the sugar up your ***—
Now how is that? I’m getting fat on your love
Like a spicy chicken dish—
But did you know that I eat with my hands?
And what do you eat with? Your mouth I hope—
Open wide and I’ll feed you the worm
Because you’re an early bird,
That’s what I’ve heard—
Let’s leave it at that…this is so silly
Is it so obvious that I adore you?
Babe, I wanna stick my whole face up your ***
And devour you from the inside.
For some people that would be shame,
But for me, yes, that would be golden…as you know